


The Mighty Pine

by EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, Lumberjack AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash/pseuds/EqualsTrashFlavoredTrash
Summary: An AU where Digger is laying low, working as a lumberjack for a winter in the 1930's





	1. One

“Why am I not surprised to find you hidden away with your nose buried in a book?” A deep voice whispered in your ear, pulling you back to reality from the story. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself knowing without looking exactly who it was leaning over the back of your chair, his mouth poised close enough that his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” you reminded him in a light tone, “Did anyone see you? Do they know you’re here?” Turning slightly in your seat, you closed your book, letting it rest in your lap as you finally looked to the man behind you. The first things you noticed was the smirk under his scruffy muttonchops and the mischievous glint in his eye.

“Not a soul,” he replied in a low voice that was barely audible over the noise of the revelers below.

The balcony over the back of the main hall had always been your favorite place to hide in the grange hall during town socials. You could sit by the railing and watch the crowd below as they danced and sang while you enjoyed a book. The space was mostly used for storage, filled with empty chairs and benches that could easily be brought down via the winch and pulley by the edge of the balcony. The only way up was through a small hatch with a ladder which were not easy to spot.

“Anyone know yer up here?” he asked, his accent making your stomach flip as he quirked his eyebrows.

“Yes, my aunt does, and if she knew I was with a man unsupervised, she’d be livid.” Your eyes traveled down the column of his neck to his worn flannel shirt. It was unbuttoned enough to reveal a white undershirt and a few curls of chest hair poking over the collar. You could just barely see the glint of the gold chain tucked away, hidden under the layers. Slowly your gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, their expanse defined by the navy blue strap of his suspenders that sat perfectly between his muscles making their size visible through the tartan patterned fabric.

“And what if she knew that man was me?” he querried, watching as your attention wandered.

Slowly you looked back up to his steely blue eyes, trying to hide the playful smile that was tugging at your lips “If that was the case, then I would probably wake in a convent tomorrow.” Setting your book to the side, you stood up, facing him fully, “Which is why you should leave. I’ll be helping with the delivery tomorrow, I’ll see you then.” You placed one hand flat on his chest, pushing against him slightly, though he didn’t budge. Gnawing on your lip, you fought to keep your face even, trying to make no reaction to the feeling of his hard chest under your palm.

“But I want’d ta see yeh tonight,” he asserted, lifting his hand to cover yours as he took a step forward, bowing his head slightly. You felt a dull throb between your legs as his musky scent filled your nostrils. You struggled to stay present while your mind drifted back to the last moment you two had been alone together in the camp’s pantry. When he had quickly leaned forward, pecking your lips, stealing your first kiss before turning on his heel to leave.

He had left you dumbfounded, standing still staring at where he’d been. Before that moment the relationship between you and him had consisted of merely flirtatious banter. Though you did find him attractive, you had never expected anything to happen, mostly because you knew how strongly your aunt would object. The moment had been in the forethoughts of your mind since it happened, unable to shake the bubbly sensation in your gut when you remembered the scratchy feel of his facial hair and how it contrasted with his soft lips.

Though you wanted nothing more right now, you knew what was expected of you and being alone with a man did not fall into that category. “What makes you think I wanted to see you?”

“The way yeh biting yer lip,” he smirked as he slowly slid his free arm around your middle, his broad hand resting on the small of your back as he urged you closer until your form was pressed hard into him. A shock ran through you at the contact, being pulled into his arms. You couldn’t help but blush, very aware of the fact that your breast were also pushed against him. You were sure he could feel every curve of your body along his.

He leaned forward, ghosting past your lips to kiss along your jawbone towards your ear. Raising your other hands to his chest, you wrapped your fingers around his suspenders, drawing yourself against him.

“I really shouldn’t be here-,” you hiccoughed as he took your earlobe between his lips. “Here alone with you. What if someone saw us?” you finished, trying to stifle your moan.

You could feel him chuckle against your skin at your reaction. Pulling away he wrapped his arms tighter around you, stepping backwards into the shadowy eaves behind the rafters. There, hidden in the dark he pushed you against the wall and finally captured your lips with his. Though you couldn’t say it, this is what you wanted. Pulling at his braces you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to grant him access. You moved on intuition, wrapping an arm around his neck as you wrestled with his tongue. You let out an involuntary squeak when he squeezed you tighter, bringing your hips against his as he raised a hand, resting it against the wall along side your head.

He growled while pulling at your lips, his free hand slowly sliding up your side, coming tantalizing close to touching your breast where his grip stalled. Turning away, his head snapped to look over his shoulder and you realize he’d noticed something you hadn’t.

“Mignon?” The familiar voice of your neighbor and friend, Addie called, using your nickname. “Are you up here?”

“Yes,” you choked out, still poised close between him and the wall, though hidden in the shadows. “Yes, I’m just reading.”

“Your Aunt Josephine wants to leave, she’s been asking for you,” Addie replied, speaking into the darkness.

“I’ll be down in a minute, I’ve almost finished this chapter,” You bluffed, trying to ignore the teasing way he continued to grind his hips against yours.

It isn’t until you hear the trap door slam shut that you let out the breath you’d been holding. Instantly he began to move against you, pushing his knee between your legs as he nipped at the skin over your pulse point.

“No,” you gasped. “I need to go.” It took all of your strength to push him back far enough that you could inch away. He held your gaze as you broke from his grasp, pacing backwards to leave. Biting at your lip, you paused for a second as you watched him. Throwing caution to the wind you stepped forward, quickly pressing your lips to his before turning to leave as he had done before.

The next morning you where early to rise, having barely slept through the night. Vibrating with excitement, you still glowed from the kiss the night before. The memory of the way he pushed you against the wall, hidden in the shadows as he tasted you was on constant repeat, playing again and again in your mind.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you climbed down the stairs, lifting your skirt away from your feet to prevent tripping. Pulling your jacket off the hook by the door, you started to fasten the buttons when you heard your Aunt Jo calling your name from the kitchen.

“What a surprise to see you this side of noon. To what do we owe this pleasure?” she stated as you walked into the kitchen. She was seated at the table, the newspaper spread out in front of her with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as the maid prepared her breakfast. You couldn’t help but smile, even at her backhand comment. You did have some genuine affection for your aunt who’d been kind enough to take you into her home when you were very young. Now widowed, she had never been able to have children of her own and you knew under the cold exterior she could be kind and motherly, though it’d been awhile since you’d seen that side of her.

“Hank the grocer is making a delivery up to camp today, he said I could catch a ride,” you explain with a shrug. “I thought I’d help Aunt Ro for a day or two.” You waited patiently, watching as her lips pulled into a thin line just how you expected.

“You know I don’t like you going up there,” she admonished, reaching for her cup of tea. “It was fine when you were younger but you’re much too old now to be spending so much time there. You should be looking for a husband, not working,” she exhaled sharply through her nose as she studied your appearance, “Though I don’t know who would marry you with your hair like that.” Finally dropping the act, you let out an exasperated sigh. At least you knew she didn’t have any good reason to be mad with you if she was resorting to criticizing the bobbed haircut you got a month or so ago.

“Please, half the men have known me all my life and see me as a daughter,” you countered, resting your fists on your hips. “And Aunt Ro wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Don’t you trust your sister?”

“No, sometimes I do not. She can be too lenient in my opinion.” For two people who had shared a womb your Aunts Josephine and Rosemary could not be more different. While Josephine lived by rules, following every step in a recipe to the dot, Rosemary was flamboyant and loud, constantly laughing and singing, ignoring the cooking instructions while dumping whatever she wants into the pot.

When you were little you wished Rosemary had taken you in instead of Josephine, but now you understood how running the main house of a lumber camp left little time to care for a toddler. Thankfully you were always welcomed to visit whenever you pleased, even unannounced, as long as you pulled your weight helping with chores.

Sitting next to Hank on the carriage, you tried to focus on your book. It was a long and tedious ride to the camp which was buried in the forest. You had long since learned that it was best to bring some literature with you knowing Hank wasn’t much for conversation, but today, try as you might to focus, your mind kept floating back to the night before, to the way his fingers wrapped around your ribs and so close to your breast.

You completely understood why your Aunt Jo didn’t want you to spend time at the lumber camp anymore, and it was that exact same reason why you were excited to go visit. Digger was everything she hated. He was tall, hairy, and usually a few days overdue for a good bath and scrub. In your mind’s eye, you could picture the sneer your aunt would make if she ever got close enough to smell him, though there was something about his scent that made you light headed.

Digger also had no mind for manners or subtly, often saying whatever was closest to the surface of his thoughts. Laughing to yourself, you imagined him seated at the long polished dining room table, confused beyond reason as to why there’s three forks, two spoons and knives and half a dozen plates set out in front of him, with no idea what any of them were used for. You were certain he’d never been to a dinner party like the ones your aunt hosted.

You knew nothing about his history and never asked, knowing it was courtesy to not press the men in the camp about their previous lives. His accent was wildly different from anything you’d every heard before, and through the grapevine you learned he was originally from Australia, halfway around the world. You wanted to ask him how he came to be here in the woods but every time he was near you any rational thoughts you may have had flew from your mind.

It was already midday when you arrived at camp, and your Aunt Ro had no time for pleasantries, immediately putting you to work watching over the stew as she went to speak with Hank. Afterwards you were set to the task of unloading the next month’s worth of food into the pantry and root cellar.

Puffing on a hand rolled cigarette, Digger was lost in thought, bouncing on top of the pile of logs being pulling in on the a horse drawn cart. He’d managed to flag down his pal, the teamster Jean Claude and catch a ride back to camp.

“‘Ey, regarde,” Jean Claude called, catching Diggers attention with a nudge of his elbow as they broke through the edge of the woods. He whistled and pulled on the reins, slowing the two horses before he pointed across the clearing to the cabin and the grocer’s cart next to the entrance. “C'est Mignon,” the quebecois indicated with a wink while Digger caught a fleeting glimpse of your skirt as you returned into the main cabin with another crate of potatoes. He couldn’t help but smile, suddenly more anxious for the day’s work to be done with.

You groaned as you stood up, listening to your back crack while you stretched. Straining from the cramped, bent over position you had held while stacking the lower shelves. Lifting the empty crate you turned to exit the small store room. Letting out a small yelp you nearly dropped the wooden box, surprised by the large man in the doorway.

“Sorry, luv,” Digger chuckled as he tucked something silver away into his pocket, “Didn’ mean ta scare yeh. I would’ve said hello, but I was distracted by the view.” He smirked as you blushed, realizing he was referring to watching you bent over from behind. With a roll of your eyes, you stepped to the side, trying to move around him. He kept even with you, quickly moving to block your path.

“Digger, please,” you requested as you moved the other way and he followed.

“I like hearing you say that,” he replied in a low voice, watching as you bit your lip in reaction.

“I need to finish my chores,” you stated, trying to give him a serious look. He relented, leaning back against a column and letting you pass. Walking into the main part of the dingle you found the last crate next to the entrance. Noticing there was no sign of the grocer’s carriage and a light snow was starting to fall, you lifted the full crate you turned to your aunt to question what was going on.

“Hank was eager to leave before the snow picked up,” Rosemary explained as she tended to the stew on the cook stove, “I told him you’d be fine here for the night.” She barely looked to you, focused on her task as you returned to the pantry.

Digger remained leaning against the post when you entered the room, crossing to the shelf where the jars of preserves went.

“Yeh stuck here for the night?” he asked after a moment of silence, taking a few steps closer to where you knelt, organizing the jars.

“So it would seem,” you replied, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he unscrewed the top of the small square flask he held before lifting it to his lips.

“It’d be a shame if yeh were trapped here for a few days because of the storm,” You couldn’t help but notice the forced casual air to his voice. You didn’t have to look to see his smirk. Putting away the last of the preserves, you stood to face him.

“It seems to me that you don’t think that would be as much of a tragedy as you suggest.” Biting at your inner cheek, you tried to hide the coy smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth while you watched him take another drink. “What’s that?” You inquired, stepping closer, lifting the flask from his hands. Taking a sniff, you immediately recognized the stinging smell of grain alcohol.

“Nothin’ yeh’d like darl,” he grinned, watching the way your face wrinkled at the fumes of the drink. Catching his eye, you took his words as a challenge and lifted the flask to your lips. The booze had barely touched your tongue when you began to cough and sputter. Digger let out a boisterous laugh, watching you lose your composure as he took back the flask.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you turned away from him, embarrassed as you tried to catch your breath. He continued to chuckle, stepping closer behind you and placing his hand flat on your back and rubbing across your shoulder blades. Your face flushed at the contact as you began to have another coughing fit, this time spurred by your embarrassment. You tried to move away again, bracing one hand on a shelf while you covered your mouth with the other. He stayed close, letting his hand drop further down your back, along your spine. Your stomach flipped at the sensation, you could feel the warmth of his palm through the cotton of your blouse while his hand drifted lower, nearer to your hips.

“Careful,” he teased as you took deep, shaky breaths, finally calming down and facing him. You stepped away as he moved in, backing up until you bumped into the shelves behind you. You watched him as he advanced, resting one hand on the untreated wood board next to your shoulder while his tongue darted out from under his mustache, wetting his bottom lip.

A nervous but exciting energy coursed through you as he held your gaze. Tentatively, you reached out, resting your hand on his upper arm when he bent forward. He slowly closed the distance between the pair of you until he was near enough that you could smell the tobacco smoke still on his breath.

“Mignon!” Aunt Ro called from the other room, her voice carrying through the open doorway. “When you’re done in the pantry, I need a hand in the dingle!”

Digger pulled back, standing up straight with his jaw clenched. It was written on his face that he wasn’t happy but all the same he stepped aside.

“Sorry,” you squeaked as you squeezed past him to help your aunt with dinner.

The late night meal was the same affair as always. The men were loud, both laughing and arguing as they devoured the stew. After eating, half the group bundled up and headed off to their small cabins, or into the the large barracks just off the dingle. You helped your aunt finish wash the pots before she retired, heading to the other side of the log cabin to the room she shared with her husband, John.

It was nearing midnight as you walked up to the last few men seated around a table, playing cards next to the dying fire. You stood between Digger and Jean Claude, resting your hand on the back of the latter’s chair to spy what he had in his hand.

Jean Claude had been working at the camp since you were 10 and was the one who’d given you the nickname 'Mignon’. He first traveled south looking for work so he could afford to build a house for the girl he loved. After five years he had saved enough and returned home. A year later he returned, explaining that she had gotten knocked up and married the father while Jean Claude was away.

Across the table was the McInerney brothers, Peter and James. The pair of whom had been working for your Uncle John longer than you’d been around. Though nearly identical and always together, you had been surprised to learn when you were younger that they weren’t actually twins, Peter being a little older than James.

You knew why these were the last men awake, tomorrow they’d be sending the logs down river and none of those around the table where skilled in that. Jean Claude and Digger were both foreign and hadn’t grown up learning to walk across the logs, and while they weren’t terrible at it, they were much too slow to be useful on the river. The brothers apparently had a fear of the water, you weren’t entirely sure why but you’d heard it was from watching their younger sister drown.

“Tu la victoire?” you asked in broken french as you studied Jean Claude’s cards.

“Non, I am far from winning,” he laughed as you stood up, shifting to look over Digger’s shoulder.

“What are you playing?” you asked as you eyed the two piles of cards in the center of the table.

“Gin rummy,” Digger stated as James played, placing one card down in the face up pile before drawing another from the opposite stack. “Care t'learn?” he questioned, quirking an eyebrow as he looked up at you.

“Okay-,” you began as he quickly pulled you into his lap. You couldn’t help but blush as he leaned forward starting to explain the object of the game and details like what a 'run’ is. He reached forward, drawing a card from the face down pile and placing the ten of spades into his hand. “If yeh draw, yeh have to discard,” he stated as he pulled out a four of diamonds and placed it face up. You nodded, watching his play. While the game moved around the table you nearly forgot you were sitting on Digger’s lap as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. When it came to Digger’s turn again, he grabbed your waist, pulling you back against his chest as he balanced his forearm on the lip of the table.

“Yeh try playing this round,” he stated, his hand lingering on your hip, while his facial hair tickled the outer shell of your ear. “There’s a queen of spades on the discard, what yeh gon’ do?”

You tried to focus on the game and not the feeling of his chest against your back, or the way his warm breath drifted across your neck as you contemplated the possible moves. Eventually you decided to take the exposed queen of spades, tucking it between the ten and king of the same suit, and discard the seemingly random six of hearts.

“Very good choice,” Digger stated loudly as he squeezed your hip, “Yeh might get good at this yet.” He reached forward, grabbing the unmarked bottle of brown liquor that sat on the table and refilled his glass, “Yeh deserve a drink for that one.” You took the glass in two hands and cautiously looked around the table.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell your aunt,” Peter finally stated with a wave of his hand.

Lifting the glass to you lips, you took a much more cautious sip than you had before. You grimaced slightly at the initial taste but enjoyed the warm feeling as the liquid traveled to your stomach. “That’s not bad,” you mention with a nod, “I like it more than the other stuff.” Lifting the glass you took another sip of the amber liquid.

“I warned yeh about the grain alcohol,” Digger teased, causing the other men to erupt with laughter. You could feel your face burning though you weren’t sure if it was from the liquor or embarrassment.

Placing your hands flat on the table you pushed yourself up, rising from Digger’s lap and releasing yourself from his grasp. “I should go to sleep,” you announced, taking your time to say goodnight to James, Peter and Jean Claude, making a point to ignore the man behind you before leaving to your small bedroom.


	2. Two

With a yawn you closed the door to the small bedroom behind you while you tugged at the waist of your skirt, adjusting so it rested comfortably on your hips. Wandering into the dingle, you followed the sound of your aunt singing to herself and crossed the wooden planks on the floor, stopping by the stove to hold out your hands to warm them by the cast iron as you hummed along.

“Look who decided to join us!” Rosemary teased, peering over her shoulder from the prep counter where she stood. “Go make yourself useful and show Digger how to peel potatoes. He can’t do it without taking half the flesh with the skin.” Looking to the other side of the room you noticed the man seated on a small, three legged stool, grumbling over the waste bin next to a basket full of spuds. After pulling on an apron, you grabbed another stool sitting down to join him him, taking a moment to watch what he was doing. It wasn’t long before you began to spot his mistakes.

“Here, let me show you.” Reaching forward you placed your hands over his. “You want to hold the knife like this with your fingers,” you explained as you adjusted his grip. “Then when you cut, you want to curl your fingers in as you pull your wrist back, trying to just run the blade along the surface. You’re peeling, not cutting.” You couldn’t help but notice how your hands seemed minuscule in comparison to his, just barely covering the back of his as you demonstrated the movements.

You were more than aware of how close you sat next to him, letting your arms overlap his as you corrected his technique. Without prompting, Digger leaned to the side, dropping his head so his lips you could make contact with your neck. You flushed as he unabashedly scattered kisses along your throat, taking full advantage of the fact that your aunt had her back turned.

“Stop,” you hissed as his stubble continued to scratch your skin. He finally pulled back, smirking at your flushed cheeks before returning to peeling. The pair of you sat in silence as you worked. You didn’t have to look to know he was watching you, you could almost feel his gaze as he studied the way you handled the spuds, quickly removing the skin and tossing it into the basket before reaching for a new one.

Digger moved at a slower pace, taking about twice as long compared to you. Between each one, as he reached for a new potato, Digger would lift his hand to his mouth, biting at his palm. You knew he had a habit of chewing his nails, but this was different.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” you finally ask after he raised it for the fifth time.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, dropping his fist as he held the knife, “Just a splinter. It’ll find its way out soon enough.”

“Come with me,” you sighed rolling your eyes as you stood, grabbing his wrist so he’d follow. You crossed the dingle to your room, noting that your aunt was distracted. Once inside, you reached into the dresser pulling out a small woven basket filled with neatly arranged sewing supplies. Unearthing a sharp needle you turned to Digger with your hand out, “Let me see.”

He eyed you and the needle between your fingers before questioning, “And what are yeh gon’ do?”

“I’m going to pull the splinter out, it won’t hurt. At least not as much as it will if it gets infected and they have to chop your hand off.” You smiled coyly to yourself as the threat seemed to work. He hesitantly lifted his arm, resting his hand in yours, palm up.

You stepped closer to him and the light from the small window, examining the small dark line buried under the skin. The sliver of wood had found it’s way into the softer part of his palm that wasn’t covered in thick callouses. Gently poising the tip of the needle, you pushed it into the skin, keeping it shallow as you got under the splinter. Digger winced slightly as you pivoted the small piece of metal, pushing the foreign object halfway out from under the skin. Using your fingernails, you pinched the end of wood and easily removed it.

“There, all better,” you stated with a smile, leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on the wound before spinning around to return the needle to the pin cushion. While your back was turned, Digger took the opportunity to step in, placing his hand on your hips and bringing you against his chest. You let out a surprised squeak as you looked up to find him with a sly grin hiding under his facial hair.

“Thanks for the care, doc. Any way I can return the favor?” He leaned in, stepping forward so you were pressed between him and the dresser. You could feel his thumbs drawing small circles on your back through your shirt as he brought his mouth closer to your ear, “Any aches I can relieve for yeh?”

You bit your lip, fighting back your reply because you knew it would not come out as coherent words. You wanted to tell him no, there was nothing he could do for you since you knew this is what you should say - what your Aunt Jo expected you to say. But what you really wanted was for him to hold you tighter. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to do, even though you weren’t sure exactly what that was. You wished beyond reason that you were back with him in the shadowy eaves of the grange hall balcony.

Thinking of the way he had pushed his thigh between your legs as his mouth moved across the skin of your neck still made your stomach flip. Shifting to stand on your toes, you closed the distance between your lips and his.

The edge of the dresser dug into your ribs as he pushed himself harder against you, parting his mouth to take your bottom lip between his. You could feel him groan, his hands gripping your waist tighter while you raised your arm and buried your fingers into his muttonchops.

“Lunch ready yet?” You heard your uncle yell in the dingle, the sound traveling through the door you’d left ajar. You gasped as you pulled back, looking at Digger wide eyed. It was obvious by now that both your aunt and uncle would have noticed the pair of you were not tending to the potatoes as expected. Pushing Digger away, you frantically straightened your blouse, panicking about how suspicious it would look when you two stepped out from your private room together.

“Sorry!” you called out as you left the room, Digger following behind you, “I was helping Digger get a splinter out.”

You looked from your uncle to your aunt who stood at opposite ends of the common area. Phil quickly accepted the answer, nodding as he returned to stacking new logs by the stove. Rosemary had a much more skeptical look about her but said nothing on the matter, simply telling you two to finish up peeling the potatoes.

The pair of you worked in silence, running your knives along the edge of the vegetables, removing the skin as you stole glances at each other. After your uncle left with the pack of lunches for the men by the river you began with slicing the potatoes as your aunt instructed. Digger was sent off to tend to the horses in the stable. Once he left you felt like you could breathe easier, not continuously worried about him doing something inappropriate while your aunt’s back was turned.

A little while later you heard the door slam. Glancing over your shoulder to the entrance while Rosemary stayed focus on dicing the meat, you watched Digger stomp into the dingle.

“Oi, Mignon,” Digger barked as he crossed the room, pulling off his gloves and standing behind you. “Got another splinter, can you get this?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes before setting down the knife and wiping your hands on your apron, ignoring the way Rosemary laughed to herself. Once in your room you pulled out the sewing needle and held out your hand as you had before, asking, “Show me where it is.”

He raised his arm, wrapping his finger around your wrist before drawing your hand down so your palm rested on his upper thigh. “Right about here,” He smirked as he watched your eyes go wide in reaction. You quickly snapped your hand back to your chest after he let go, blushing at the fact that you had touched him in such a spot.

“Don’t be rude!” you hissed at him as you moved to slap his chest. You had forgotten that you were holding the needle as you brought your hand forward. Digger yelped as the point pricked his skin through the layers of his shirts.

“That hurt!” Digger emoted as he pulled at the collar of his shirt, revealing more of his hairy chest to inspect the injury. There was a small drop of blood but nothing to worry about. You couldn’t help but blush as he revealed more skin.

Glinting in the light, you noticed the chains he wore tucked under his shirts. You had always assumed they were for a religious pendant but now you could see there was two thick gold chains resting around his neck.

“Wow,” you murmured as you reached forward, running your fingers along the cuban links. The most expensive jewelry you’d ever seen belonged to Josephine and you were forbidden from touching it, but still you could tell by looking that his necklaces were not cheap. “Where did you get these?” you asked looking up as you ran a finger along the smooth gilded metal.

“It doesn’t mattah,” Digger replied quickly, pulling his shirt collar up to hide the chains. Furrowing your brows, you wonder vaguely why he was so dismissive of the subject but ultimately figured it wise to not press him.

You followed him back to the main area to find Hank warming his hands by the stove. Even though he didn’t have a delivery to make, he traveled all the way back to camp to give you a ride into town as he promised. Quickly you scurried off to gather your things, knowing he’d want to leave as soon as possible. The whole time you tried to ignore Digger’s sour expression.

Arriving at your Aunt Josephine’s house was always a relief. You felt like you could breathe easier when you were there. Walking through the front doors you shrugged off your jacket, hearing the sounds of Jo conversing with someone in the parlor. Quickly dusting and straightening your skirt, you stepped into the side room to say hello.

“We were just talking about you,” your aunt commented with a smile as she sipped at her tea, “Of course you remember my good friend, Mrs. Pottings,” she introduced with a nod as you smiled at the visitor. You had a vague idea of who she was but had no real connection to her.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you,” you replied giving a warm smile as you stood on the threshold with your hands clasped in front of you.

“Mildred was just telling me about her grandson, Jacob,” Josephine mentioned as she set her teacup down, catching your attention.

“He really is such a sweet boy,” Mrs Pottings added, “He’s on track to be one of the best lawyers in Boston.”

“Oh, is that so?” You you replied politely, trying to keep your expression even.

“He’s currently looking for a wife…” Josephine stated, catching your eye. Pursing your lips, you tried your utmost to remain passive though you could easily see what your aunt was trying to do.

“Well, I wish him the best of luck in his search,” you replied with a kind smile, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to get to.” Before either of them could respond you turned on your heel and climbed the stairs.

That night at dinner your aunt had been vehement, “Jacob is exactly the type of boy you should be pursuing.”

“Please, Auntie Jo, can we talk about anything else?” you begged as you pushed the food around your plate with your fork, suddenly losing your appetite.

“I’ve already arranged for him to visit and have dinner here next Saturday,” she declared as you looked to her, wided eyed and letting your jaw drop. “I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised. You were making no efforts to find a spouse so I took matters into my own hands,” she spoke casually as she cut apart her slice of meat into small bite-size pieces, not making eye contact as you sat next to her completely still.

“What if I like someone else?” you blurted out suddenly, finally catching her attention.

“What?” she asked incredulously, pausing to look up at you, “Who?”

“His name’s Digger- I mean, George,” The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them, “I like him, and he likes me.”

“And how did you meet this Digger?” Josephine asked, setting down her silverware to cup her hands in front of her.

“I met him up at camp,” you explained, avoiding eye contact as you blushed, slightly ashamed of what you were admitting. “He likes me and I like him.”

“Does he intend to marry you or is he like the other men in the camp who would prefer just a good night with you?” Your blood boiled at her insinuations. You didn’t know what Digger wanted from you but the way she posed her questions made you feel worthless.

“He cares for me, and I care for him,” you reiterated as you stared at your dinner plate, fighting back the angry tears that burned your eyes as they threatened to spill forward. Biting your lip, you struggled to keep your bitter remarks to yourself. Suddenly you stood, the legs of the chair scraping across the wood floor as you moved. “I am finished eating,” you announced, before turning to leave the dining room. “Thank you for the meal.” Dropping your napkin on the table you turned away, briskly exiting through the door and hurrying to your bedroom.

It was another restless night, though you were plagued by anxious thoughts rather than amorous ones. At some point in the early morning you managed to fall asleep, even if it was just for a few hours. When the sun rose you were still upset with your aunt and ignored her when she called your name from the kitchen while you fled out the front door. Truding through the quickly melting snow, you made your way into town. Turning the corner after the grocery store you climbed the back stairs to the apartment on the second floor and knocked on the door.

Addie had grown up next door to you and was the closest friend you’d ever had. When she lived with her family you two spent all of your time together but unfortunately since she married last spring and moved to town with her husband, the pair of you hadn’t been able to see each other much.

Addie couldn’t help but grin when she found it was you knocking at the door. She eagerly invited you into the small apartment. While you took a seat at the kitchen table, Addie put a kettle on the stove, requesting an update on your life. With a heavy sigh you began to recount the day before and your aunt’s decisions about your future.

“Why not marry him?” Addie questioned as the kettle began to whistle. “If he’s a lawyer in Boston he’s probably well off. You’d be set.”

“I realize that,” you replied with another sigh, as she rose to get the hot water. “The thing is, I like someone else.” Addie placed a cup in front of you. Keeping your eyes down you raised the spoon, swirling the water and herbs. “She’d never approve of him though, he works up at the camp.”

“Does he like you?” Lifting the cup to her lips Addie took a drink as she watched, noticing the small smile that was dancing on your lips as you considered her question.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he does,” you mumbled, blushing before you continued. “Remember at the social when you came to get me from the attic?” Addie nodded, following what you were recalling. “I wasn’t alone then, he was there with me.” Now it was Addie’s turn to grin.

“You were alone with him in the dark?” Biting your lip you gave a sheepish nodd. “And what were you doing with him?”

“Just kissing!” you squeaked, sitting up right and blushing as she gave you a sly look.

“Yes, but you know what kissing leads to…” she teased, lifting her cup to take a sip.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” You scratched the back of your neck nervously before asking, “What does kissing lead to?”

Addie nearly choked on her tea at your question. Sputtering, she lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she coughed. Pulling a handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve she wiped at her lips once she had caught her breath.

“You’ve never fooled around with anyone?” she was incredulous when she asked, looking at you wide eyed. “What about Jonathan? Didn’t you go out with him?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, playing with the spoon in your hand. “We went out a few times and he tried to kiss me, but he stopped himself because he was too scared of Auntie Jo.” You exhaled again before continuing, noticing the way Addie raised her brow in curiosity. “After the second time he took me on a date he walked me up the steps afterwards and while we stood on the porch saying good night, he leaned in to kiss me. That’s when Jo snapped the door open, talking about how late it was. He took off pretty quick and never asked me out again.”

“So, your Aunt chased off any boy that looked at you, but now she constantly nags you about getting married.”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it.”

“Do you want to marry the guy up at camp?” You looked up at Addie, surprised by her query. It was something that you hadn’t really considered.

“It would never happen, Josephine wouldn’t have it and I don’t think he’s the type to settle down.” You felt downtrodden by the sudden reality of the situation. Addie immediately felt bad for the situation you were stuck in and tried everything in her power to distract and cheer you up. Once she had run out of jokes and the pair of you’d finished folding the laundry, she decided to go out. The local pub was only a few blocks away and she was sure that a few glasses of wine would help your mood.

“We don’t have to talk to anyone,” she said while you made your way down the sidewalk, hopping over the puddles from the melted snow. “I like to just get a bottle of cheap red and a booth in the back and just watch everyone else. Sometimes when I’m with Eddie, we make up backstories for people, just guessing what they’re like.”

“Really?” you asked with a chuckle, walking alongside her.

“Yeah it’s actually very fun,” she insisted while reaching for the door to the bar and holding it open for you.

You couldn’t help but admit that she was right. Going out and drinking with Addie had done wonders to lift your mood. The pair of you sat in a back booth laughing at the stories you dreamt up together as you watched everyone else in the room. The time flew by as you enjoyed yourself, regularly refilling your glass.

“Ok, ok,” Addie began, trying to stifle her laughter, “You see the guy over to the left? Sitting alone with two glasses on the table?” You shifted in your seat, looking over your shoulder, following to where she pointed. “I bet he’s a widower who buys a second drink every night, hoping someone will sit and join him but every girl sees the second glass and thinks he has a date so they never approach him.” You couldn’t help but grin as you spotted the man she was describing.

“Oh, I know for a fact you’re wrong.” Turning to face her you lifted your own wine glass and took a sip, “That’s Jean-Claude.” You weren’t surprised she hadn’t realized who he was, Addie had never spent time at the lumber camp, and most of the men there rarely traveled into town except for big socials or other get-togethers where they could find company for the night.

“That’s Jean-Claude?” she repeated, surprised by the truth. “But he’s handsome. You never told me he was young.”

Only half paying attention to Addie, you looked back, wondering exactly why he would be in town. You almost got up to go talk to Jean-Claude when someone sat down to join him. Instantly your head snapped forward and you moved further into the booth.

“What’s wrong?” Addie asked, shocked by your sudden reaction.

“Jean-Claude, that guy, look who just joined him!” you hissed, quickly throwing back the last remnants of wine in your glass. You could feel the heat in your face, burning in your cheeks, positive you looked like a tomato.

“Yeah, and?” Addie was obviously still confused as she looked between you and the two men sitting across the room.

“That’s Digger,” you added. “That’s the guy from camp.”

Addies eyes went wide as the realization washed over her, “The guy you were alone with in the dark?” You shook your head, nodding frantically as she smirked. “I’m going to go say ‘hi’.”

You nearly jumped out of your seat as your reached for Addie’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks. With a roll of her eyes she relented and sat back down.

“Fine, I won’t,” she obliged with a sly smile you couldn’t miss. “…But only because he noticed and is coming over.”

“How'er you girls doin’?” Digger asked as he stopped next to your booth, leaning on the back of your seat. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was staring at you.

“You must be Digger,” Addie said as he held her hand out to him. “I’m Mignon’s friend, she’s told me all about you.” You wanted to crawl under the table and hide as he shook her hand.

“Is that so?” he pressed as he pushed his way onto the bench seat, forcing you to move closer to the wall to make space for him. He set down his stein and reached for the bottle, filling both your’s and Addie’s glasses. “And what’s she said then?”

“Oh no, that’s between us,” Addie baited as you lifted your glass taking a drink. “Don’t worry it’s nothing bad.” Digger shifted in his seat, lifting an arm to rest along the back of the booth behind you as he took a sip.

“JC’s just went out paying off some gambling debts.” Digger shrugged as he finished his drink, his fingers hanging down so they just barely brushed along your shoulder. “That’s why we’re in town,” he turned his head, looking directly at you, “We’re heading back t'camp tonight, if yeh care to join us.”

You flustered for a moment under his attention before you realized just what he was offering. Excited to get away from your Aunt Jo, you jumped at the opportunity. Addie rolled her eyes but eventually agreed to cover for you. Satisfied with your choice, Digger whistled for the waitress and ordered another bottle of wine.

The night progressed while the three of you joked and refilled your glasses regularly. You were enjoying yourself and barely noticed as Digger’s arm slowly dropped, resting on your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. Addie saw what he was doing and couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of you nearly sitting in his lap when Jean-Claude finally returned.

“Enchanté.” The quebecois greeted, kissing the back of Addie’s hands after being introduced. “I would love to get to know you, but I’m afraid we should leave,” he explained, looking to Digger. “It is quite late already and it is a long ride back to camp.”

Exiting the booth, Digger shifted to the side as he dropped his arm, slipping his hand into yours and lacing your fingers together. Following suit you scooted over until you could stand. You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips as you looked back at your friend, who quickly jumped up from her seat.

“Next time you’re kissing, try biting his earlobe,” she whispered to you, “Then run your hand up his thigh and touch him. Trust me, that’ll work.” She pulled back giving you a wink as you followed Digger out the door, hurrying to move next to him and wrapping your free hand around his elbow.

“You two will ride in the back,” Jean-Claude explained as he unhitched the horse and climbed onto the driver’s seat, “There’s not room for three up here.”

Rounding the back of the carriage Digger turned to you, encircling your waist with his fingers before hoisting you up and into the cart. Giggling, you stumbled slightly before falling onto the hay. The bales were stacked so most of the weight was forward in the cart, creating a small wall between the pair of you and Jean-Claude. Knowing that he couldn’t see you, Digger shouted once he was seated and cart jerked as it was pulled forward, bouncing with the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait.

Digger smirked as he watched you, holding your gaze, causing goose bumps without even touching you. You bit your lip as you leaned forward tentatively, narrowing the gap between you and him. He slid his arm around your waist, bringing you nearer to him as the carriage bumped over a root.

You couldn’t help but moan into the warm contact of his lips. One of his hands slid down your side before resting on your hip, tugging you forward and lifting your leg across his. You reeled in embarrassment, straddling his lap in such a provocative way, but as you moved your head away he took the opportunity to pepper your neck with kisses and you relented into his touch. Caught in a drunken haze you found yourself following his lead, rolling your hips into his while his hands squeezed your ass, pulling your center closer.

Remembering Addie’s advice you leaned in, wrapping one hand around his neck as you kissed at the corner of his jawbone before taking the soft flesh of his earlobe between your lips. Tugging at his ear, you couldn’t help but grin as you felt the rumble of a groan through his chest. Motivated by the success of Addie’s first suggestion, you eagerly dropped a hand between your abdomen and his, sliding your palm south across his middle until your grasp rested on his crotch. Brazenly, and influenced by the wine, you flexed your hand and massaged his groin as you leaned back biting your lip.

It didn’t take long for Digger to respond. Impatiently he undid the buttons to your blouse popping them open to reveal your breast, covered by only a thin camisole to the cold air. You couldn’t help but moan as he kneaded your soft flesh, humming as he took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth through the soft cotton fabric.

“Digger,” you hissed as you dug your nails into the back of his scalp while trying to remain quiet, still very aware of how close Jean-Claude was. Digger ran a hand along your thigh, pushing your skirt so it bunched against your waist as your arm tightened around his neck. His thumb rubbed along your leg, slowly moving closer to your apex while teasing at the skin just past the hem of your bloomers. Nervously you curled forward, responding to the electric feeling of his fingers against your sensitive skin. Bowing your head into the crook of his neck, you rolled your hips into his touch.

Gently he ran his thumb over your clit in a swift motion that caused your whole body to jerk in response. With a satisfied grin he began to kiss and pull at the skin between your shoulder and neck while he let his fingers drifted nearer to your center. You clung to him as he touched you in a way no one ever had before. It felt like your skin was on fire, unaffected by the cold breeze as it passed. You moved with the rhythm of the bouncing carriage, pushing your hips against Digger’s fingertips as they slid past your clit, hovering around your entrance.

Digger paused for a second, drinking in the moment. He had wanted you since he first laid eyes on your form from across the dingle. He watched as you helped your aunt cook while he played cards, quickly asking Jean-Claude what your name was after. It had taken him sometime to catch your attention but he never relented and it seemed his efforts had paid off. He smiled inwardly at the sight of you sitting in his lap with your legs spread, quivering at his every touch.

Eagerly he slid a single finger inside of you, watching as you squirmed at the sensation. Digger smiled as he leaned forward, kissing your breastbone, enjoying the warmth of your wet walls before slowly drawing his finger back and pushing it in again, deeper than before. You couldn’t help but gasp as his digit moved along your inner walls. Slowly beginning to savor the feeling, you unabashedly rolled your hips against his hand.

Without warning, Digger pushed a second finger into you. Biting your lip, you whined at the addition, suddenly feeling uncomfortably tight.

“Relax,” his low voice whispered into your ear as he continued to move his hand. Balling his shirt in your fists, you leaned forward excitedly capturing his mouth with yours. There was a foreign feeling stirring within your core. A tension building somewhere behind your stomach that’d you never felt before. Digger’s touch did nothing but stoke this fire.

He shifted his wrist, raising his thumb to press against your clit as his rocked his hand back and forth. You gasped into his mouth at the sudden stimulus while he took advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue past your lips. You found it hard to focus on anything as Digger played with your bud of nerves, the new feeling inside of you building to a breaking point.

With a small cry you crumpled into him as something released. Falling limp, you held onto his shoulders as your hips jerked and spasmed, your legs shaking pleasantly. Slowly Digger withdrew his fingers from between your thighs and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you against him as you trembled, coming down from the high.

After a moment you came back to earth. Leaning back, you studied Digger’s smug, content expression and his steely eyes. “What was that?” You asked in a airy voice, still a little overwhelmed from the event.

“I just made yeh cum, is all,” he explained with a smirk. “I can do it again if yeh want.”


	3. Three

Digger guided you down the hall of the stables, his fingers laced with yours until the pair of you were just out of sight from Jean-Claude, who was busy putting the horse back before heading to his cabin to settle in for the evening. Quickly stepping to the side, Digger spun you around, pushing you against the wooden boards that made up the wall next to the door.

You could see the steam of both his and your breath billowing from your lips in the cold night air as he moved in closer, his hands resting on your hips. “Come back to me cabin.”

“I can’t,” you replied in a soft voice as you lifted your hands to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around the elastic of his suspenders. Giving a slight tug, he followed your urging and closed the space between you.

Since the moment when he stole your first kiss a little over a week ago, you had come to very much enjoy making out with Digger. In fact, it was all you wanted to do and it was constantly on your mind. The next day you would find yourself with far more nicks and burns on your fingers than usual, all due to your thoughts drifting to him while chopping vegetables or near the stove.

After that carriage ride, you knew that you did want to join Digger in his cabin, but you also knew that you shouldn’t wait to tell him the news of your impending betrothal.

Raising his arm, he slid his fingertips along your jawbone, bringing his palm to cup your face as he kissed you, his form engulfing yours as he kept you pressed against the wooden boards.

“Come back to me cabin with me,” he whispered again without moving away so his lips brushed against yours as he spoke. In an instant your last meager bit of resolve collapsed and you agreed.

Swiftly, Digger turned around, urging you to climb onto his back. Gripping his shoulders, you hopped up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he linked his elbows under your knees, keeping you in place. Circling your arms around his neck, you tugged yourself closer, holding on tight as he headed into the night.

“Don’t want te get yer hem all muddy,” he explained as he stomped through the wet soil, most of the freshly fallen snow already gone.

Entering the cabin, Digger quickly crossed the single room to the old bed before turning and releasing your legs so you fell onto the mattress. You laughed lightly when you bounced on the creaking springs, your brain still heavily influenced by the wine from earlier. Lifting your hands, you tried to hide your smile as Digger strode to the small stove in the corner, the cast iron door creaking as he swung it open.

While he was busy loading the logs and kindling, you took the opportunity to take in the small room and see what his private space looked like. The room was pretty messy with his various personal effects scattered aimlessly across the floor. On the wall was a pennant for a sports team you never heard of and you couldn’t help but notice his bed, which you were sitting on, was unmade; the blankets still balled up from when he’d kicked them to the side before rising that morning, leaving the sheets exposed.

Once the fire was started, Digger stood up, hoisting his arms up and clasping his hands above his head as he stretched. Waiting on the mattress, with your feet tucked under your bottom, you watched as he turned around, yawning before he slid his thumbs under his suspenders, guiding them off his shoulders. You bit your lip as you stared at him, watching how he deftly kicked his boots to the side while unbuttoning his flannel shirt. Shrugging off the garment, he threw it to the floor and stepped towards you. Bending forward he brought his lips to yours, his moustache tickling the skin on your face as he tugged at your blouse, freeing it from your skirt’s waist band.

You could feel a jittery excitement beginning to boil somewhere behind your stomach as he untucked your shirt. Unsure of how to respond, you brought your hands to his shoulders before leaning back into the pillows. He followed, staying close as he climbed to rest between your knees, continuing to suck on your bottom lip.

Shifting, he lowered his head, tracing his mouth down your neck while nipping along your jugular. Each of his slow kisses elicited a verbal response from you. You wiggled against him as his steady movements became sluggish. Then, after a moment you realized he wasn’t moving at all.

“Digger?” you asked, shaking his shoulder while his face remained buried in the crook of your neck. His only response was a loud snore.

He’d fallen asleep.

Rolling your eyes in disbelief, you attempted to maneuver from underneath him, but even with your best efforts, his broad and heavy form kept you pinned to the mattress. You did your best to get somewhat comfortable despite the weight on top of you and try to sleep, but it didn’t work.

The second time you were able to free yourself. Not wanting to bother trudging all the way back to the dingle alone in the dark, you chose to curl up next to him. You lifted his arm so it rested along your side before pulling the blanket up to cover the pair of you.

When you woke up the following morning you were uncomfortably warm and a little sweaty. With a yawn you stretched and took in your surroundings, recalling the events from hours earlier. Sitting up you found yourself fully clothed and next to the human furnace known as Digger. He began to stir as you shifted to climb over him. Without a glance he grabbed your waist, bringing you down so you laid on top of him.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around your middle, immobilizing you.

Relaxing, you let your chin rest on his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he took deep, slow breaths while you contemplated your next move.

“I have to tell you something,” you stated, breaking the calm silence of the morning.

“Oh?” Digger asked, finally cracking his eyelid to look at you, “What’s that?”

You hesitated for a minute, trying to think of a way to play it off, but it was too late to change the subject. “I’m supposed to get married to this banker from Boston. His grandmother and my Aunt Jo are friends,” you explain with a somber tone.

“So it’s an arranged thing?” Digger questioned as he slid one hand from your waist to tuck under his head. Biting your lip you nodded, waiting for his response as his gaze drifted to the rafters. You grew uneasy with his silence.

“What are you thinking?” you probed in a tense voice, obviously nervous.

“I was thinkin’,” Digger sighed as he lowered his chin, his gaze reconnecting with yours, “That this bloke probably wouldn’t marry yeh if I knocked yeh up.” Your eyes went wide at his admission while he smirked at your expression.

Moving quickly, he shifted his position, rolling over to pin you into the mattress. One of his hands drifted to your thigh, snaking its way under the hem of your skirt as he leaned in for a kiss. You could feel the burning excitement in your abdomen begin to spark with his touches but you didn’t plan on giving in that easily. At the last second you turned your head away before he made contact, his lips colliding with your cheek instead.

“No!” you yelped as he moved to kiss your neck, undeterred. “You had your chance last night and you fell asleep!” Digger responded with actions, lifting your leg to his side as he pushed his hips into yours.

“Come on, luv,” he pleaded, keeping his mouth against your skin while you wriggled, fighting to get out from underneath him. He relented his grip, allowing you to get away, tumbling from the bed onto the hardwood floor. Standing up, you straightened your skirt as you glared at him. Digger laid on his side, watching you move as you tucked in your blouse. Wanting to check your appearance, you glanced around the small cabin for a mirror and found none. Unsurprised, you moved on to search instead for your shoes. Finding them in opposite corners, you sat on the edge of bed to pull them on.

Quietly Digger reached up, running his fingers down your spine, causing you to shiver as you tied your laces. Once finished, you rested your hands on the lip of the mattress before turning your head to look at Digger over your shoulder.

“Do you want to marry the bloke?” he asked as he lounged against the pillows, his hand drifting to play with the small bit of lace on your cuff.

“Not really, no,” you admitted with a gulp. “I’ve never even met him.”

Without speaking Digger sat up. Sliding his palm along the nape of your neck, he guided you towards him until his lips locked with yours.

Entering the dingle, you quickly pulled an apron from the nail in the wall and secured the band around your waist with a knot before settling next to your aunt at the counter.

“You seem tired,” she mused, barely glancing at the bags under your eyes.

“Oh, well, I didn’t sleep too good last night,” you murmured, grabbing the paring knife and beginning to help slice the carrots.

“Ah? And what kept you up?” Rosemary asked, never lifting her gaze from the butcher block, “Or should I say ‘who’ instead of 'what’?”

“Auntie,” you sighed, resting your hands flat on the surface as you faced her, “Nothing happened, I swear. I was just a little drunk and-,”

You were interrupted by her raised palm, a sign you learned at a very young age mean 'shut your mouth and listen’. “I don’t want to know the details,” she punctuated as she turned to study you. Even though the usually jovial woman was a bit shorter than you (and had been since that growth spurt when you were 14) when she needed to, she could make even the largest men in camp freeze mid step with one glare. Your theory was that the rarity of her temper made it all the worse.

“You are a grown woman now,” she began once she was positive she had your obedient attention. “You can make your own choices. But,” she held up a single finger to keep you from responding, “I want to be certain that you are thinking about these choices and you are not making a mistake.” She raised her eyebrows as she looked at you, dropping her fist to rest on her hip so her elbow jutted out while the other sat on the counter, supporting her weight with her elbow locked before she finished, “Because I do think you’re making a mistake. A big mistake, and one that could affect the rest of your life. How well do you even know him?”

With a huff of air leaving your nose you crossed your arms and rested a hip against the butcher block before you scoffed, “I told you, nothing happened, and I know him better than the dip Aunt Jo wants me to marry.”

Rosemary’s expression dropped at the news. “And who is that?”

“Her friend Mrs. Pottings’ grandson, I think his name was David or something, I don’t remember,” you replied with a shrug as you lifted the knife.

Your aunt tutted with a small shake of her head before turning back to the cooking while mumbling, “Mildred was alway such a stuck up ass. Numb as a hake I tell you, but her dad had money from running a hotel down the river in Bangor, so everyone loved her.”

“How did she and Aunt Jo meet?” you probed while gliding the knife alone the end-grain of the butcher block, pushing the remnants from slicing into the compost bucket by your feet before grabbing at an onion to start peeling.

“Oh, at some church function, or maybe a social at the grange, I don’t really remember. But they got along as thick as thieves from the first second,” your aunt grumbled as she also grabbed an onion. “But I didn’t complain much at the time, that was around when I first met your Uncle. He worked at the camp while your grand dad was still running things and all I wanted to do was-,” she cut herself off, pausing for a second as she reflected on the truth of what she’d almost said.

Spying her distracted expression out of the corner of your vision, you nudged her with your elbow, bring her back to earth with the question, “What were you saying about Uncle John?”

“Oh never mind that,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Scanning over her shoulder she eyed the cast iron stove before instructing you, “The pot of coffee should be ready now. Go make some for cups for the men. Jean-Claude and the McInerneys are in the stables, Digger’s chopping wood out back.”

Gripping the four handles of the tin mugs, two in each hand, you walked carefully through the mud, cautious to not slip and fall, pouring hot coffee all over yourself. Using your hip to push open the door, you entered the barn. Almost instantly you spotted the brothers across the way, Peter was mucking out a stall while James was brushing down the horse. Kicking the door shut, you hurried over the floor boards towards them.

“Morning,” you called as you approached James and he took one of the mugs from your grasp. You set the other on the ledge of the stall’s half wall for Peter before turning around. “Is Jean around?” you asked as you walked forward, carefully placing an open palm on the horse’s snout as James sipped at his drink.

“Ayuh, up in the hayloft,” he nodded towards the stairs as his brother set down the pitchfork and lifted his own mug from where it rested. With a smile you turn around and climbed the steps to the second level of the barn.

“Bonjour!” you announced your presence as you entered the loft, noticing the Jean-Claude had his back turned.

Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder at the interruption. You could see the smile spread across his face as he realized who had come to call. “Mignon! Salut,” he replied as he dropped the bale he was holding onto the stack.

“Café pour toi,” you offered as you shifted the mugs in your hand to hand one to him.

He readily accepted the cup sighed as he took a sip, “C'est magnifique.” He took a second gulp before looking at you and raising his eyebrows, “Alors, tu-as amusé la nuit dernière?”

“Uh, what?” you asked, not understanding, your grasp on french was still quite limited.

“Did you have fun with Digger?” he elaborated, switching languages, “You two weren’t exactly quiet in the back of the carriage last night.”

You could feel the blush burning as it rushed from your ears to your cheeks while you stood there wide eyed at his comment. Jean-Claude smiled as his brought the the mug of coffee to his mouth.

“I have to go,” you stammered, quickly spinning and scurrying to the stairs.

“Merci, Mignon,” Jean-Claude shouted at your retreating form. You could hear him fighting the urge to laugh.

“Bienvenue,” you responded automatically with the expected polite return as you continued to retreat in embarrassment.

Exiting the barn, you couldn’t help but sigh as the cool air sooth the flame in your cheeks. Clutching the last cup in both hands, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before rounding the building to where you could hear Digger splitting logs.

Peaking around the corner you saw him. He had shed his flannel, which laid discarded on the log pile with his ribbed undershirt. He stood barechested, his muscles in his back flexing as he held the axe raised above his head. With a grunt he swung the blade forward. There was a loud crack upon impact as the axe wedged its way into the log before the wood split apart along the natural grain. One of the two halves fell into the mud as Digger repositioned the other on the stump, readying it to be chopped.

Slowly you crept up behind him, careful not to disturb while he had a sharp, heavy tool in his hands. You watched him raise and drop the axe one more time before speaking up, “Hey, I brought you some coffee.”

Digger quirked his eyebrow before looking over his shoulder to you after burying the blade in the stump. The axe stayed stationary as he let go, turning around to face you. The corner of his mouth quirked into his crooked grin as he stepped nearer, letting his hands linger on yours when accepting the cup.

“Thanks, luv,” he spoke with a nod, entertained by your flushed expression. Biting your lip you fought the urge to stare openly at his bare chest. “Enjoying the view, darl’?” Digger teased as he moved towards you, resting his palm on your waist while you anxiously played with your fingers in attempt to keep your hands to yourself. “Be happy ta show you the rest latah.”

You gasped slightly in embarrassment, quickly raising your arms you cover your open mouth with your fingers. Digger couldn’t help but laugh as he brought you closer, wrapping his arm around your middle, holding you against him.

“Digger!” you squeaked, pushing him away before leaning back and twisting out of his grip. You barely moved an inch when his fingers latched onto the back of your skirt, halting you from moving any further. The coffee cup long since discarded in the mud, Digger brought his other hand forward, lightly ghosting his touch along your sides to tickle you. You tried to worm your way out of his grasp as you fought back the giggles bubbling inside you. Digger shifted, pushing one of his legs between yours as he let go of your skirt. He snagged your wrist, pinning your other arm against your chest with his forearm and immobilizing you with one hand, as you continued to gasp for air from laughing.

His facial hair tickled tickled your neck in a different way as he buried his face somewhere between your shoulder and neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. His hand at your side stalled once you let out a moan instead of a laugh. Sliding his arm around your waist he held your back flush against his chest while he focused on nipping that spot just underneath your ear. Letting out a sigh, you unconsciously rolled your hips back against his. You could almost feel the smirk on Digger’s lips as he lifted his head.

Bringing your chin to your shoulder, you looked up to his clear blue eyes before letting your own lids flutter shut as you shifted closer, pressing your lips to his. You felt content as he returned your affection, his strong arms holding you tighter as he kissed you back.

Unbeknownst to either of you, the tender moment did not go unseen. Your Aunt Ro had been returning from the compost pile when she noticed the pair of you. She watched the way he teased as you attempted to play keep away. It wasn’t until you finally kissed that she sighed to herself and decided it was due time she paid her sister a visit.

**Author's Note:**

> just like ...lumberjacks and digger make me feel things, but then combined??


End file.
